Her Game
by Lizz The Boho
Summary: My first song-fic about how the Duke feels about his Satine.


**Title**: Her Game 

**By**: Lizz The Boho

**Summary**: My first song-fic about how the Duke feels about his Satine.

**Disclaimer:** Yeah yeah, you know. I don't own Moulin Rouge or anything like that. The song "Her Game" is © to Kevin Max.

**Dedication**: Firstly, to Kevin Max because he sings so beautifully and, without him, this fic would not exist. Secondly, to She's A Star because I was sitting here wishing I had a song to song-fic when I realized the song in my ears at that moment would do very well. Very well.

**A/N**: My first song-fic. There aren't enough sympathies for the Duke, so this one is for him!

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_Every time she comes my way…_

The champagne caught in his throat. His diamond, his diamond, was coming his way. The saunter in her step. The perfume in her hair. He knew it was all for him. It left him utterly breathless. She knows just what to do and say… 

"Mm, my dear duke…" she said as she rubbed her hand up and down his arm, her Sparkling Diamond routine working perfectly. "I'm so tired…perhaps we can have that little dinner tomorrow night?"

"Bu-bu…but my lady!" he began.

_Those little smiles she throws my way, they turn my stomach…_

"Please, my Duke. Tomorrow would be all the better for me…for you," she spoke with a smile.

If you listen close enough you'll catch all the decisive stuff, those subtle moves, the way she smoothes her hair down

How could he decline that offer? He gulped. 

"That's quite alright, my diamond. You may go to bed." The smile on her face was worth the sacrifice. She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and walked off. Had he been watching closer, he would have seen her leave the room…but with the young, penniless writer whom he hated with his all.

And you don't want to say she was digging your grave…there's no way you're going to leave her…

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So where you gonna go?

"WHAT?! WHAT?!" his mind questioned over and over. How could…no. There was just no way. No way in hell she would've be off with that writer instead of him. She couldn't have! His mental photo album of the memory rapidly flipped through the pages looking for a clue, any clue!, that it was impossible. 

The evil mistress named Nini stepped away from his side and walked off. Her task was completed; Satine was now in deep trouble. But back in the chair, the Duke was still trying to make sense of her words. It seemed like gibberish. It was a language unknown to the oblivious man. 

Who you gonna call?

His servant came over to him.

"Is there something wrong? You look a bit…flustered." For the first time, the Duke noticed there was in fact a world going on around him, even though, in his logic, it should not. 

"Y-yes, I am quite alright," he stammered. "Just…make sure…Miss Satine is in my room tonight." With that, he left his seat exited the building.

When you know it's time to play her game…

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"You called," that sultry voice spoke. The Duke slowly turned around to meet his guests'. A devious smile was on his lips, evil thoughts in his mind. He knew exactly what to do with a mischievous girl such as the one he had. 

He led the black-lace covered body to his table. He simply watched her through the dinner, noting her every move with disgust and mistrust. She was oblivious, however, to it all.

What's the mystery?

His hand was held to hers, a motion for her to take his. She did, and he picker her up through this grip and brought he over to the mirror. There, he got behind her, picked something up, and slowly brought it in front of her to see. It was a large diamond necklace, shimmering in the dim light. 

"Will you be…my courtesan? And I your maharajah."

"And the play?" she asked. The Duke thought for a moment, then whispered.

"Let Zidler keep…his fairytale ending." His Diamond thought for a moment, then nodded. This was all he needed. His smile curled into a wicked one. She noted this with worry.

Who's it gonna be?

In one swift movement, a slick, steel dagger plunged into the woman's creamy white skin. She gasped as white-hot pain shot through her, collapsing her already sick lungs. She fell to the ground with a scream.

Somewhere below, a young, penniless writer ran up the stairs after hearing the exceptionally loud scream.

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The Duke smiled down at her. He held the dripping weapon loosely in his hand. She continued to try to suck in all the air she could, her chest heaving with each attempt. The Duke leaned over and kissed her blue lips. She only looked at him in terror.

Suddenly, her love burst through the door and went to her side. He knew what had happened. A fist flew through the air and hit the Duke squarely in the nose. The man stumbled back a few steps until he was leaning on the table.

Satine's last sight was of the Duke. He spoke to himself, "Her game…she deserved it…she did…" before plunging the murder weapon into his own chest until it penetrated through the other side. The two pairs of eyes closed simultaneously in death.

When you know it's time to play her game.****


End file.
